


The Politics of Us

by AngelOfTheMoor



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Politics, Childhood Friends, Daddy Issues, Homophobia, M/M, Politics, Reunion, Supernatural Reverse Big Bang Challenge, Supernatural Reverse Big Bang Challenge 2016
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-09
Updated: 2017-02-09
Packaged: 2018-09-23 01:03:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9633143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngelOfTheMoor/pseuds/AngelOfTheMoor
Summary: Growing up, Dean Winchester and Castiel Novak were the best of friends until one incident changed everything. Twenty years later, they’re on opposite sides of a political race. When a kidnapping throws Dean and Cas into a life-or-death situation, the truth will out.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: _Supernatural_ doesn't belong to me.
> 
> Warnings: brief sexual content, homophobia, conservative politics, veiled reference to Donald Trump
> 
> The political opinions here may be oversimplified. What's included is for plot purposes. Please let me know if any applicable warnings haven't been included, and I'll add them.
> 
> This is my submission for the 2016 Supernatural Reverse Bang. Thanks to the mods for their work with it once again.
> 
> Thanks also to [consultingcas](http://consultingcas.tumblr.com/) for her valuable beta-ing work! The wonderful art comes from [izulkowa](http://izulkowa.tumblr.com/); art master post is [here ](http://izulkowa.tumblr.com/post/157027798196/the-politics-of-us-ao3-for-spn-reverse-bang-fic). The idea for the fic came to me when I noticed the colors of the ties. Sorry for the corny title; it just felt right.

Dean’s been endlessly prepped for tonight. Dad and the campaign team have drilled him on the whole damn platform a million times, but he’s still nervous. He’s never participated in a debate before. Sure, he’s a political veteran, even at the tender age of thirty-five. He’s served in the state senate for almost twelve years. As a career politician hailing from the Winchester clan, Dean is perfectly poised to take a place in the United States House of Representatives. Dad’s retiring with a high approval rating, and Dean’s always been popular.

But _Congress_ —that’s a much bigger responsibility.

It doesn’t help that his opponent is none other than Castiel Novak. Cas Novak, who’d been his best friend until they were sixteen. Cas Novak, who’d cut all ties with Dean when their lips had touched. He’d thought his feelings were mutual, that Cas’s characteristic staring had become more heated. But turned out Dean had been imagining whatever it was.

The disgust on Cas’s face still plays in his nightmares.

Even more pathetic, Dean’s never been able to shake his infatuation with the guy, no matter how many women he’s dated. He guesses he’s just destined to remain the district’s most eligible bachelor.

Though Cas moved back to town after college, he and Dean have not spoken since the incident nearly twenty years ago. Dean’s spent a good chunk of that time in the state capital, anyway.

He doesn’t understand why the hell Cas is even challenging him for the seat. Everyone had assumed Dean would run unopposed, but no. Cas, who owns a quaint used bookstore (Dean’s never been, but he’s browsed the website, and he’s gotta admit, it’s pretty cute, plenty of nooks and crannies for reading, great book recommendations from Cas, and yes, Cas is freakin’ _hot_ in the picture on the homepage) and possesses zero political experience, had donned the mantle of Democratic candidate.

Lord knows where he gets the campaign money. Certainly not from his family. They’re well-off, but crazy religious, so they’ve cut ties with their openly homosexual son. Meager funds probably explain why there’s not much buzz around him, come to think of it, though he has acquired vocal grassroots support. This debate will probably be the most exposure he gets.

One more reason Dean can’t screw up. The election’s supposed to be a cake walk. If he fails to secure the seat, Dad will _kill_ him. What with Sammy in California practicing law (and staying out of politics), Dad’s depending on him to sustain the family legacy.

Now, conferring in whispers with a guy who must be his campaign manager, Cas slips backstage. Dean studies him from the other side. His breath catches in his throat. This is the first time he’s seen Cas in person since high school, and the bookstore website photos don’t do him justice. He’s _gorgeous_.

His black dress pants hug him in all the right places, while the bagginess of his white shirt somehow manages to suit him. God, his hands—long, slim fingers Dean can just imagine cupping his chin. Still the same sea-blue eyes, which match the color of his tie, and messy dark brown hair Dean wishes he could thread his hands through.

The campaign manager slinks away; then Cas’s eyes meet his.

He flushes, hoping Cas hadn’t caught him gawking. That strong gaze makes Dean tense up, but no matter how much he wishes to flee, he can’t tear his eyes away. Even now, as he’s gripped by indignation and anger, his heart swells with affection.

Cas approaches him, and Dean inches back until he hits the wall. Shit. What’s he even supposed to say? “Hey,” Dean croaks.

“Hello,” Cas replies curtly.

Dean’s taken aback by the rudeness, but he's gonna be the bigger guy here. “Good luck.”

“Hmph.” Cas glares at him before gritting out, “Just answer me one thing.” Okay, guess they’re skipping the pleasantries. No surprise there. Cas’s always been a direct, straight-to-the-point kind of guy.  “How can you—when you identify as bisexual—oppose gay marriage?”

Dean shrugs and pastes on what he hopes looks like an easy smile. Truth is, Dean doesn’t give a shit who marries who, but if Dad declares they’re against gay marriage, so’s Dean—at least publicly. Even though Dean’s never kept his bisexuality a secret, he’s compromised with Dad there again—he dates only women. In fact, his sexual identity actually gives him and the party more leverage for their platform on gay marriage. Recently, he, Dad, and the party have had to moderate their stand on the issue since society has grown more tolerant regarding sexuality. But they’re still against it, just like most of their district’s citizens. It doesn’t matter what Dean thinks; whatever John Winchester spouts, so does Dean.

Now, he explains, “I’m all for civil unions, man. They’ve got the same privileges and responsibilities as a marriage.”

“Then why not just call them marriages?”

“Because that’s not the definition of marriage. It involves a man and a woman.”

Cas scoffs.

Fine, Dean doesn’t believe the bullshit he’s gushing, either. But Cas—how the fuck can he identify as gay, after what’d happened between them? He hurls the first thing that comes to mind. “Why’re you pretending to be gay, you homophobic ass?” He knows the accusation is baseless—a lot can change in twenty years—but after his judgment of Dean’s sexuality back in high school, he deserves whatever vitriol Dean dishes out.

“Pardon?”

“What about all that shit your family preaches? Aren’t you afraid of ‘going to hell’?”

“Surely you know that we are estranged.”

Dean snorts. “Right. That’s why you lectured me about homosexuality being a sin. You know, back when we were in high school.”

For a split second, Dean thinks he catches a flicker of remorse in Cas’s eyes. But it vanishes before Dean can be sure. With a steely look, Cas states, “I don’t need to take this abuse from you.”

Then he’s gone.

xxxxxxxxxxx

_Dean and Cas had been inseparable since their first day of preschool, back when Dean had noticed the quiet, wide-eyed boy shrinking in the corner. He’d looked scared, and Dean had wanted him to know everything would be all right._

_Cas’s family had been intimidating. His parents led a megachurch, and in addition to a younger sister, Cas had three brash, self-assured older brothers. Occasionally, he and Cas had let Hannah play with them. Dean had felt sorry for her; Michael, Bartholomew, and Ephraim had teased her almost as much as they’d teased Cas. When they weren’t teasing, they were parroting their parents’ sermons._

_In high school, Dean had realized he was bisexual. He didn’t think it was a big deal, but he was worried about how those closest to him would feel about it. It wouldn’t fit in with Dad’s beliefs, and Cas . . . Cas would call him an abomination._

_He’d come out to Cas first. “I . . . I understand if you don’t want to talk to me anymore,” Dean had stammered._

_Cas’s eyebrows had scrunched up in a so-not-adorable way. “Why would I do that?”_

_“Because . . . you think I’m going to hell, right?”_

_“No.”_

_“But what about your family, Cas . . . what would they say?”_

_“They don’t have to know.”_

_No, of course not. “But your religion, Cas. It’s against your religion.”_

_“You’re my friend, Dean. Nothing will ever change that.”_

_But Cas had lied._

_Almost a year later, they’d been studying on Dean’s bed.—Chemistry, of all things. They’d both reached to flip a page of the textbook, and their fingers had brushed. Their hands had lingered like that, barely touching. Cas had looked up at him through his lashes, eyes so intensely focused on him, a barely-there smile on his face. Dean had never seen anything so beautiful. A few months ago, he’d realized that he was in love with his best friend._

_So he dared to kiss him._

_Cas jerked back. “Dean? What’re you doing?”_

_Dean’s face heated up. “Uh, sorry, I—”_

_“You know very well that being gay is a sin.”_

_Dean gaped at him. “But I told you I—you said I—”_

_“There is nothing wrong with bisexuality. Not if you do not act upon the homosexual urges.”_

_“What?”_

_“You will not drag me to hell.”_

_“Cas—”_

_Cas stormed out of the room, out of the house—and away from their friendship._

xxxxxxxxxxx

Dean still doesn’t understand it. When had Cas discovered he was gay? Why hadn’t he contacted Dean once he’d realized it? He would’ve welcomed the opportunity to rekindle their friendship. Periodically, he finds himself wanting to share something with Cas, a remark or observation he knows Cas will appreciate. He’ll tell whoever’s nearby instead, but it’s never the same. Half the time they’ll just give him puzzled looks and move on.

Dean’s comfortable with his bisexuality, and he refuses to hide it. Dad had reluctantly accepted the decision, but he’d made Dean promise to follow his conservative political agenda and “just stick to the girls.” Dean had agreed. He has a duty to uphold the family business. It’s not like he ever would’ve been allowed to date anyone, woman or man, Dad disapproved of, anyway. In politics, appearances are everything.

Benny, the campaign manager, ensures Dean’s headset is secure, and then finally, Dean takes his place on stage. At the same time, Cas enters from the other side. They meet halfway and exchange handshakes. Cas’s cold eyes pierce into him, and Dean tries not to visibly cower. Other than the candidates and their highest ranked campaign workers, only Inias Ingalls, a prominent local news anchor, and a camera crew are present. The debate is being broadcast live on public access television, with Inias using a list of pre-selected questions pulled from what’s been trending on social media.

Inias begins with an explanation of his credentials and the debate’s format. Dean doesn’t pay much attention until he addresses the candidates. “Mr. Novak, Mr. Winchester, welcome. Thanks for providing the electorate this chance to learn more about you and your positions.”

“Thank you for having me, Mr. Ingalls,” Cas replies, a twinkle in his eye. So, he’s turning on the charm.

“Yeah, thanks,” Dean grunts. Benny gives him a disapproving look, and Dean winces. He’s already off to a terrible start. He can beat Cas in the charm department; he _has_ often been praised for his charisma. He just has to get his head in the game.

“This first question is for Mr. Novak. Your background is not in politics. You run a used bookstore, the Tower of Babel. Why did you decide to pursue political office?”

“That is an excellent question, Mr. Ingalls,” Cas answers. “We have been represented by the Winchesters for decades. When John Winchester announced his retirement, I and many of my friends looked forward to the possibility of new blood. I believe the populace is ready for an alternative to the Winchester status quo. During the last two elections, voter turnout was lackluster. Surveys have shown that many people are frustrated at the lack of choice. While we have traditionally been a conservative constituency, we are evolving. Data shows that our populace is growing more progressive, and the Winchesters no longer represent what we stand for. Gay marriage is now legal, and our local citizenry has grown to accept and even champion this change. Yet the Winchesters, including Dean, still oppose the concept.

“I was disconcerted to find that no one would challenge Mr. Winchester for the seat, so I took it upon myself. The common man and woman feel like no one truly represents them, and they want someone who will fight the establishment. Which is what I vow to do.”

The last two sentences have obviously been rehearsed, yet Cas is clearly in earnest. He also has a point. Despite Dean’s and John Winchester’s high approval ratings, voter apathy has been growing.

“Thank you, Mr. Novak. Mr. Winchester, what motivated you to run?”

Dean chuckles and flashes the patented Winchester grin no one can resist. “My father has served the district well. Despite Mr. Novak’s reservations about what the Winchester name represents, I can promise that we always have our constituents’ best interests at heart. While it is true that voter turnout has lessened during the past couple of elections, I think that indicates a national trend more than anything else. The same is true everywhere. Ask anyone, and they’ll say they’re happy with what my dad has accomplished. If anything, the voting figures indicate how satisfied people are with the current state of affairs. People like where things are. There haven’t been any protests to the contrary.” After a pause, Dean adds, “Except from Mr. Novak. I can’t help but feel that it might be personal.” Dean hadn’t known that would come out of his mouth, but the more he thinks about it, the more it feels true, especially with the way Cas had behaved backstage.

“I—” Cas starts, offense written across his face. Dean smirks. If Cas is already rattled, Dean’s got this in the bag.

“Let’s move on to the next question,” Inias interrupts. “Mr. Novak, you’ll have a chance to address any unfinished points in the concluding statement. Now, speaking of gay marriage, you yourself, Mr. Novak, are in favor. Is that correct?”

“Yes, Mr. Ingalls. It’s already legal. An attempt to appeal its legality would be fruitless. We in this country pride ourselves on civil rights, and we shouldn’t take a step backward. We have similar issues on which we as a nation don’t live up to our reputation, but I assume we will discuss those later, Mr. Ingalls?”

“Yes, Mr. Novak.”

“I’ll just say that, as a gay man, how can I feel otherwise? Like everyone, I dream of finding that special someone one day, and I would like to marry that person.” Cas glances at Dean, and for a second, Dean thinks he reads melancholy on his face. But his expression hardens, and Dean realizes he must’ve imagined it.

“Mr. Winchester,” Inias resumes, “you are on record as opposing gay marriage. Many do wonder—as a bisexual, how can you take such a stance?” Cas raises a judgmental eyebrow, but Dean ignores him.

“I just believe same-sex partnerships should result in civil unions. They’re practically marriages.—”

“Then why not call them marriages?” Cas retorts.

Dean barrels on. “But we don’t need to change the definition of marriage. It’s always indicated the presence of a man and a woman. Changing the meaning violates the language.”

Cas scoffs, and with good reason. Dean doesn’t believe any of the shit that just rolled out of his mouth, but it’s what Dad’s coached him to say. If he goes off script, he can kiss Dad’s and the party’s support goodbye.

Though, thinking about it, Dean wonders if that would be such a terrible thing. God, he detests politics. Dealing with all those rascals in the state legislature is bad enough. It’s probably even worse in Congress. He dreads the possibility of having to constantly watch his back, cloak his meaning in vague words, and make deals with pompous assholes.

“Language evolves, Mr. Winchester,” Cas points out. _Mr. Winchester_. The syllables sound odd coming from Cas’s mouth. Especially in such a frosty manner. He longs to hear Cas rumble his name with that kind, affectionate tone he’d used when they were friends. “It always has.”

“But marriage is a religious term,” Dean continues. “Churches—they define marriage. As we all know, I have foresworn dating men. It’s against my religion.” _Religion, my ass_. Like he really gives a shit. He attends the Novaks’ church purely for show. “We don’t believe in homosexual relationships, though there’s nothing wrong with—how do I put this?—feeling attraction toward the same sex as long as we don’t act on those urges.” He glances at Cas, who appears stricken by Dean’s words. “Of course, the Founding Fathers incorporated the separation of church and state into the fabric of our nation, and for good reason. We shouldn’t impose our religious beliefs on others—and that’s where civil unions come in. We keep the religious concept of marriage out of it; the bonds created are purely secular.”

“Marriage is also a legal term,” Cas objects. Yeah, Dean knows. People get married at the courthouse every damn day. His argument is dumb, but like everything in his damn life, it’s ordained by John Winchester and his political associates.

“Let’s move on to the next topic,” Inias interjects. “We need to discuss family values. They’ve very important to people in our district. Many have concerns about how either of you could represent our family values. Other than a more personal matter, which we’ll get to in a minute—” Personal matter? What the hell is he talking about? “—family values was the most mentioned subject in the submitted questions. So. How can we trust you to safeguard family values when neither of you is married and never has been? Let’s start with you, Mr. Novak.”

“How do we even define family values, Mr. Ingalls?” Cas poses. Ha. Guy’s just dug his own grave.

Dean grins. “Of course my opponent cannot be trusted to advocate for family values,” he chimes in. “He doesn’t even know what they are.”

Cas eyes him shrewdly. “Do you? Enlighten me, then.”

“Well, um—” Shit. How do you distill the concept into a digestible soundbite?  Cas’s expression grows smug. Damn if he’s gonna let that asshole trip him up. “Honesty and loyalty, for starters. I may not be married, but I guarantee those are two qualities I will pass on to my children when I have them. And my dad and I . . . we’re real close, y’know, and I’m close with my brother, too.” He hasn’t felt close with Dad for years, though. All they do is talk about politics, which is the only thing Dad cares about. Which explains why Dad so rarely talks to Sam. But at least Dean _has_ a relationship with his family. “Mr. Novak, on the other hand, has severed ties with his family. He’s as far from family values as it gets. No sense of heritage there.”

“ _They_ severed ties with _me_ ,” Cas snaps. “They don’t agree with my ‘lifestyle.’” He uses actual air quotes, the dork, and Dean suppresses a laugh. It’s endearing for a brief second—then he returns to reality.

“That may be so. But family don’t give up on family, y’know? You could’ve made more of an effort to, um, stay in touch, or—”

“You think I didn’t try to convince them to change their minds? They’re too inflexible in their beliefs. Their church—”

Cas’s derisive tone is another mistake. As much as Dean disagrees with Naomi and Zachariah Novak’s opinions, he’s always respectful of them. Hell, he goes to their damn megachurch every Sunday. They’re some of the most influential people in town. For years, they’ve supported Dad and Dean in their political careers. They even crafted Dean’s public explanation of his bisexuality.

“We need to stay on schedule,” Inias interrupts. “Here’s our next issue, and this is what most people seem curious about. As you know, a newspaper reporter has revealed your childhood friendship.” Ugh, that’d be Cassie Robinson. She just couldn’t keep her damn mouth shut. Cassie had been in the same grade as he and Cas; Dean had even dated her for a few months. She’d dished the dirt, including the mysterious “breakup” of their friendship. Ah, well. Dean understands why she did it. Someone would’ve eventually rambled about it on social media anyway, and it was good for the first mention of it to come from a professional source. Still, it rankles. That’s no one else’s damn business. But as Dad constantly reminds him, that’s politics for you.

“We’ve had confirmation that you two were best friends up until eleventh grade,” Inias continues. “Yet there seems to be a rancor between you two in this campaign.” Dean frowns. Does there? Except for this debate, he hadn’t noticed. Did Cas say something about him? He sure didn’t smear Cas in his campaign commercials. Then again, Dad has said some critical things about Cas. Like insinuating the split between him and his family is suspicious. And that Cas doesn’t have enough political experience—but that’s not anything personal.

“And everyone wonders why. What happened to your friendship? We want to hear both of your takes, starting with you, Mr. Novak.”

Cas at least has the grace to flush. “That is personal, Mr. Ingalls. I’d rather not comment. Let’s just say that sometimes people go their separate ways.”

“Mr. Winchester?” Inias prompts.

Oh. Shit. How should he respond? He admires Cas’s discretion, but . . . Cas had fucking ripped his heart out. He doesn’t deserve Dean’s silence on the subject. “It’s because Cas—Mr. Novak, is a rotten SOB.” Cas and Inias gape at him, and Dean realizes he’s again tossed out a statement before thinking properly. Dad will be furious that he hasn’t watched his language. “I came out of the closet in high school, y’know? And he stopped talking to me. Said, what was it? Oh, he wouldn’t let me drag him to hell.” Cas recoils, expression apologetic, but Dean doesn’t care. If his youthful homophobia brings him down, he deserves it, the prick.

Stunned, Inias turns to Cas. “Is that true?”

Cas shuffles, clearly uncomfortable. Dean smirks. “Yes, and I am sorry. I shouldn’t have responded that way. But you have to understand where I come from, Mr. Ingalls. My family has taught me that anything other than heterosexuality is an abomination.—”

“They endorsed Dean Winchester,” Inias observes.

“Yes.” Cas smiles ruefully. “The lesser of two evils to them, I suppose. Because he doesn’t indulge his homosexual side.” Dean’s heart clenches at the pain in Cas’s voice. He can’t imagine what it’s like to have your parents dislike you that much. Then he remembers he’s not supposed to pity Cas. He’d betrayed Dean, and he’d never apologized. Hell, he’s not even apologizing now. Not to Dean. He’s addressing his remarks to Inias and the viewership. _I am sorry_ , he claimed. Not _I am sorry, Dean_. Cas isn’t even looking at him.

 “I was young then, Mr. Ingalls.” Cas clasps his hands together, fidgeting with his fingers. A characteristic sign of anxiety ever since Dean can remember. “And I was afraid of what my family would think. I was coming to terms with my own sexuality, trying to convince myself that I was wrong, that I wasn’t gay. And I was just . . . I was confused.” Cas sighs. Tears gather in his eyes, but maybe Dean hallucinates that, because they’re dry less than a second later. “We all make mistakes, Mr. Ingalls, and that was my biggest one. Pushing Mr. Winchester away was another form of denial.”

“Cas,” Dean whispers. Thankfully, no one hears the wistful syllable. No telling what people would’ve made of it. Besides, Cas does not. Deserve. His sympathy. Even with Cas’s candor, the whole thing sounded too impersonal.

Inias swipes at his eyes. “Well. Perhaps we should’ve saved that for the end. Let’s return to the national stage. Who do you believe should be the next President of our United States? You first, Mr. Winchester.”

_Yeah, let’s just jump from the most emotional topic possible to the most loaded one. Wonderful idea._

“Um.” Dean knows what he’s supposed to say. Endorse the same bastard as Dad and the party. He’d been fully prepared to, despite how slimy that makes him feel, until now. With Cas right there, judging him, . . . he hesitates. Hell, Cas probably already thinks he’s a skeezebag by now, why not go all in?

But he wants to redeem himself in Cas’s eyes. That, despite the fact that Cas is the one who should be begging for forgiveness.

Dean opens his mouth, unsure what’ll come out.

But before he can pronounce a syllable, a group of men, dressed in all black, wearing ski masks, and toting guns, burst into the room. They point their guns at everyone in the room. Inias screams.

“Everyone out!” one of the men shouts. He turns to Cas. “Everyone except you.” Two goons grab Cas.

Everyone flees, but Dean’s not going anywhere.

“What the fuck?” Dean blurts.

“You, out!” The main guy commands Dean.

The two men drag Cas toward the door.

“You can’t do that!” Dean yells. What’re they planning to do to Cas? “I won’t let you.”

“Oh, yeah?” the main dude retorts. “What’re you gonna to do about it?” He turns to two more of his minions. “Get this guy outta here.”

Two lackeys start toward him, but a man in the back holds up a black-gloved hand. “Wait,” he sibilates in an oily British accent. “We can use him, too.”

“But he’s not the target,” protests the second-in-command—for the English bastard is obviously the one in charge.

“Doesn’t matter.”

The two men continue toward him. Dean’s got a clear path toward a side door. If he wants, he can extricate himself from this mess.

“Dean, run!” Cas cries.

No. He’s not gonna abandon Cas like Cas abandoned him. He’ll figure out what’s going on, and he and Cas will escape. Together.

Something smacks him on the head, and he blacks out.

xxxxxxxxxx

Dean stirs, his vision blurry as it slowly returns to him. Number One and Number Two surround Cas, their words garbled to Dean’s ears.

Cas releases a desperate laugh. “They won’t do it. They don’t give a shit what happens to me.”

“Tsk. ’Course they do,” the British guy counters. “If they don’t pay up, people will think they’re monsters. Then the jig is up for them. Church goes bye-bye.”

“They’ll twist it to their advantage somehow,” Cas insists. “Trust me, they’ll turn themselves into martyrs.”

“Nonsense.”

“They loathe me. They’ll welcome it.”

“We’ll just see about that.”

The two men stalk out of the room, slamming the door behind them. Dean tries to stand up but discovers his ankles are tied to a chair, his wrists bound behind it. He groans in frustration.

“Dean. You’re awake,” Cas observes. He turns mournful eyes toward him. “I’m sorry.”

“’S not your fault,” Dean slurs.

“Not about this.” He frowns, forehead furrowed in thought. “Well, yes, that, too. But that’s not what I meant.”

“Huh?”

“This might be my last chance—”

“What?”

“They’re going to kill me.”

“What? Why?”

Cas smiles ruefully. “No one will pay the ransom.”

Okay, Cas needs to explain this shit to him. “What—?”

“Hold on for a minute, will you?” Cas snaps. Dean flinches at the tone. “Please,” Cas adds more softly.

“Okay. I’m listenin’.”

“In high school. I wish I . . . ” Cas blinks away the moisture gathering in his eyes. “I wish I’d handled that better.”

No need to clarify what _that_ is. “It’s fine,” Dean mutters.

“No, it’s not. I hated myself for what I said . . . I still do.”

“Then why’d you do it?” Dean breathes. Whatever excuse Cas gives, it won’t be adequate. Nothing can compensate for the pain of losing the one he trusted the most, hell _loved_ , of Cas stomping on his heart and treating him like all their years of friendship had meant jackshit.

“I was confused . . . ” Dean scoffs. So Cas’s gonna go with that shitty line from the debate. He turns away from him, and Cas pleads, “Please listen.” His voice actually breaks, and that catches Dean’s attention. His gaze migrates back to Cas, and now tears stream down Cas’s cheeks. “I had feelings for you, too. I think I loved you, and . . . ” Cas sniffles. “I was frightened. I didn’t know if it meant I was going to hell. And my family . . . I was a coward, Dean.

“And I . . . ” The last part comes out in a whisper. “I still love you.”

“Cas,” Dean exhales.

“I don’t expect it to ch-change anything, but I need you to know, before I . . . ”

_No, Cas, you’re not gonna die. But we’ll get to that in a minute._

“So, what’s goin’ on with all this?” Dean nods his head at the door.

“We’ve been kidnapped.”

Dean snorts. “No shit. But what’s their deal?”

“They want a share of my family’s money, and apparently they think holding me for ransom will do the trick.” He pauses, taking a second to school his countenance into neutrality. “It won’t,” he laments.

Shit. They must be holding Dean for ransom, too. Even though he’s not nearly as wealthy as the Novaks, John Winchester does possess a sizable nest egg.

Dean’s heart throbs at the despair in Cas’s voice. He can’t even imagine what that’s like, the belief that your parents would just leave you to die. Cas is wrong. No one, especially the pious Novaks, would be that cold-hearted. “’Course it will,” Dean rasps.

“No. They despise my, ‘lifestyle choices.’”

“What? Are you sayin’ they wouldn’t bail you out because you’re _gay_?”

“Yes.”

“They don’t care about that.” Cas gives him a skeptical look, and Dean amends, “Yeah, I guess they do. But it can’t be that big of a deal, not when your life’s at stake.”

“I’m already dead to them. You’ll notice that they support your run for office, not mine. Not only that. They _denounced_ me.”

Yep, the Novaks have treated Cas heartlessly. “That’s just ’cause of the platform.”

“And you make them look good. Michael and Bartholomew have political aspirations.”

“I noticed,” Dean responds archly. Michael Novak is running for the state senate seat Dean is vacating, and Bartholomew is on the city council.

“But I’m also a disappointment to them in many other ways. They cut me off when I was in college. Because I majored in history and refused to join them in the church. To even attend it.”

“Why?”

“I didn’t believe as they did. Not anymore.”

“When did that happen?”

Cas averts his eyes. “When do you think?”

Dean’s speechless. His heart hurts a little. After the kiss, Cas had had his own crisis, and he’d had to weather it all alone. At least Dean had had Cas with him in the beginning, back when he’d been trying to think of how to come out to his dad and Sam.

A change of subject is in order. “So. Why’d you decide to run for political office?”

Cas turns back to Dean. “Because I know you, Dean. This—politics, it isn’t you.”

“How do you know? We haven’t talked in almost twenty years.” _We knew each other for less than that. Yet Cas—he still knows me better than anybody. Even Sam. Sam’s always thought my dream was to follow in Dad’s footsteps. I just did it because someone had to, and I knew Sam wouldn’t._

Cas scrutinizes him. He’s still got that adorable squint Dean remembers. “Because I do, Dean. You were good with your hands.” Dean stows the double entendre that comes to mind. “You wanted to be a mechanic. Or something similar.”

So he had. As a politician, he’s never felt the same satisfaction that tinkering with Baby gives him. It’s like he’s one with the universe, or some shit like that. Cas could describe it better. But Dad would’ve never forgiven him for making such a choice. “We both knew I was never gonna be able to do that.”

“But you should be. If you want to.”

“So what’re you sayin’? That you ran to what? Teach me a lesson?”

“I also happen to know you don’t agree with your platform. I hate watching you compromise yourself. And I—I really do want to effect change.”

Yeah, Dean does prefer Cas’s platform over his own.  

The door bangs open, and the British guy strolls in, still wearing a ski mask. He eyes Cas with surprise. “You were right. The Novaks have no interest in you.” He turns to Dean. “But you, Representative Winchester is willing to bargain for.” His attention wanders back to Cas. “What did you ever do to them?” Cas studies the ground.

“We don’t negotiate with terrorists,” Dean spits. “And I ain’t leaving without him.”

“How very noble of you. I’ll see if the Novaks are amenable. Otherwise, I’ll have to kill you both. Wouldn’t that be a pity.” He slithers out of the room.

“Dean, if they’re willing to release you, you should let them,” Cas beseeches.

“Not without you.” Cas opens his mouth to protest, but Dean forestalls him. “I’m not losing you again.” Something has changed in the air between them. If they get out of this— _when_ they get out of this—they will be together. Dean feels it, and he’s certain Cas does, too.

With his fingertips, Dean explores the rope binding his wrists. He’s gotta find a way to free himself. It might be the only way to save Cas . . .

Much later (but still too soon), British Guy and his Number Two burst into the room, British Guy toting a knife. Number Two remains by Dean’s side while the other man approaches Cas. He presses the tip of the dagger into Cas’s neck. A drop of blood bubbles up. “I amended my demands, yet the Novaks refuse to cooperate. I must confess I didn’t foresee this. I hate that it has to end this way, but I am a man of my word. How can I expect anyone to take me seriously if I don’t follow through?”

Shit. Dean’s not done. _Cas is gonna die shit no—_

Cas abruptly grips the British character with one hand and snatches the dagger with the other. He holds it above the man’s head. Number Two rushes toward Cas, and Cas elbows him in the nose. Number Two stumbles, and Cas knees the leader in the groin. He falls to the ground. Somehow, Cas saws through the rope around his ankles in record time. When Number Two staggers toward him, Cas slams his head against a wall, and Number Two crumples to the floor, unconscious. Dean’s finally unraveled the rope around his wrists. Now the leader darts toward Cas.

“Cas, watch out!” Dean warns.

Cas spins around, tosses the knife at Dean, and snatches at the remaining man’s collar. He bangs the leader’s head against the wall, and British Dude’s out like a light.

Free of the rope, Dean stands up. “Damn.” Who knew Cas could move like that?

Cas retrieves a cell phone from the British man’s pocket. “Watch the door. I don’t think it was loud enough for anyone to hear, but you never know.”

Weirdly, Dean’s turned on, of all things. Take-charge Cas is _hot_. But he stashes the arousal and obeys. The police will be here soon.

xxxxxxxxxx

After Dean and Cas give their statements, a cop offers them a ride home. Dean focuses on the grille in front of him, too nervous to look at Cas. That, and he’s afraid that if he turns to Cas, he might stare.

They arrive at Cas’s house first. Dean examines it through the window. It’s small, about the size of a cottage, with two oak trees in the front yard.

He finally glances at Cas. Even in the darkness, he detects a subtle sparkle in the other man’s eyes. “Stay?”

How can Dean refuse?

“Okay.” It feels like the word is scraped from his throat.

“I’ll have to open the door for you,” the policewoman mentions. She steps out of the car, flings open the door on Dean’s side, and gawks at them as they both lumber toward the house.

Dean follows Cas inside, not really paying attention to his surroundings. Cas leads him toward a room, where he removes his coat and hangs it in the closet. Oh. The bedroom. Dean didn’t realize Cas would bring him in here. It’s sparsely furnished, just an old simple wooden desk with a chair and a full-sized bed covered with a plain blue comforter. He’s gotta help Cas jazz up this place, inject more of his personality into it.

Cas sits on the edge of the bed, unlaces his brogues, and leaves them at the bedside. Dean perches on the other side of the bed, not exactly sure where this is going. Cas carefully removes his tie, shirt, and slacks, so that he’s clad in only a plain white shirt and plaid green boxers, folds them, and stacks them on the bedside table. Now Dean’s _really_ puzzled. He’s not getting a sexy-times vibe from Cas, but why’d he just peel off his clothes? “Dude,” Dean says.

Cas raises his eyes to him. “What?”

“What’s with all the stripping?”

Cas rolls his eyes. A small smile blossoms on his face. “It’s just you.” He leans back onto the bed and sighs. “I’m tired.”

Yeah, Dean’s tired, too. He kicks off his shoes and socks before lying down next to Cas and drifting off. This is where he belongs.

xxxxxxxxxx

Dean wakes up in the morning cocooned in warmth, his legs tangled up with Cas’s. A ray of sunshine slants in through the blinds, highlighting the dust motes around Cas’s wild hair. Propped up on one elbow, Cas smiles down at him. “Hello, Dean.”

“Hey, Cas,” Dean murmurs. Something about last night niggles at him. _Cas said he loved me. I never told him that I . . ._ “I love you, too, you know.”

“What?” Cas gasps.

“Mmmhmm.” Dean idly traces his index finger along the inside of Cas’s wrist. “Ever since . . . I always have.”

“But I said all those terrible things to you.”

“Guess the heart just wants what it wants.” Dean grimaces at the cliché. But it’s true. He clutches Cas’s shoulders, leans in, and plants his lips on Cas’s. After an open-mouthed but brief kiss, he draws back.

“Come back here,” Cas demands, using Dean’s tie to yank him in. The tip of his tongue grazes Dean's lips, gently parting them. Dean gladly devours the taste of Cas, inhaling as much of him as he can. Dean clings to Cas’s shoulders while Cas’s fingers dexterously divest Dean of his tie. Cas rolls up Dean’s shirt and snakes a hand underneath, his palm skating over Dean’s stomach and chest before stopping at a nipple, which he pinches. Dean’s body spasms into the touch. Cas pries his lips off of Dean’s, and Dean whimpers.

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” Cas confesses. His lips linger tantalizingly close.

“Yeah?”

“Mmm. Anytime I saw you on TV, I would just . . . ” His free hand skims down the side of Dean’s body over to his groin, which he squeezes. Blood rushes downward.

“Goddamn,” Dean mumbles.

He unbuttons Dean’s shirt and tosses it aside. Meanwhile, Dean removes his belt. He can’t get his pants off fast enough.

He craves Cas, and he can’t keep his hands away anymore.

He dips one hand underneath the waistband of Cas’s boxers, and he squeezes Cas’s balls. Cas groans.

“Let’s get these out of the way,” Dean mutters. He jerks Cas’s boxers down, and Cas kicks them to the side. Cas does the same with Dean’s boxers, and finally, they can—

He grips Cas’s wrists and pins them above him. He wraps a leg around one of Cas’s and grinds down.

“Dean,” Cas exhales.

Shit. He should’ve waited until they could get all their shirts off, too. He needs to see Cas without any barriers.

Cas squirms out from underneath Dean’s grasp. “Dean, can I—” He tugs at Dean’s T-shirt.

Dean beams. “You read my mind.”

Cas tears off Dean’s shirt, and Dean returns the favor. Cas scrutinizes him with that intensity he’s always had, like he apprehends everything about Dean with just one look. “You’re beautiful,” he rumbles.

No, Cas is the beautiful one. He’s positively _ripped_ , something his clothes had disguised. For a second, Dean forgets to breathe. He reaches forward, memorizing Cas with his hands. Cas bucks up against him impatiently.

Dean grinds down. The friction is delicious, and his speed builds rapidly. He can’t control himself, and neither can Cas, it seems, as he matches Dean’s pace. Dean comes first, embarrassingly quick, like this is his first time. Well, it is, when it comes to Cas, and his yearning for Cas has never abated.

With a shout, Cas comes a second later. He sinks back into the mattress, boneless. Dean snatches a piece of clothing from the bedside table and uses it to clean up the mess. Cas scowls.

“What?” Dean asks.

“That was one of my best shirts.”

Dean glances down. Yep, it’s the shirt Cas had worn to the debate. The shirt falls to the floor, and Dean laughs.

“It’s not funny, Dean.” But the smile Cas’s fighting tells a different story.

Dean lies back next to Cas and rests his head on Cas’s shoulder. Cas drapes an arm around Dean’s shoulders, and Dean tucks his head underneath Cas’s chin.

“What are we going to do about this election?” Cas inquires. His voice vibrates against Dean’s cheek. It feels nice.

“I think I’ll drop out,” Dean answers.

Cas draws back to look Dean in the eye, and Dean misses his warmth, the feel of his neck against his cheek. “Really?”

“Yeah. Like you said . . . I actually do hate politics. You have no idea. And you were right. I agree with your platform more than mine. I’ll endorse you.”

Cas gapes at him. “But what about your career? And your father?”

Dean shrugs. “I’ll find something else to do. And Dad . . . ” Dean sighs. That is quite a problem. But he’s got Cas now. “He’ll have to deal with it.”

Cas resumes his former position, and they lay there, just basking in each other. Cas’s hand massages Dean’s shoulder, and Dean closes his eyes to savor these moments.

Eventually, Cas asks, “Would you like some breakfast?”

“Sure.”

Cas stands up. “Come. I’ll make you something.”

They throw on their boxers and T-shirts, and Dean follows Cas to the kitchen. “How do pancakes sound?” Cas poses.

“Awesome. Mind if I make some coffee?”

“Please do.”

While Cas gathers the ingredients for breakfast, Dean prepares the coffee. It’s brewing when someone rings the doorbell.

“I’ll get rid of them,” Cas announces, pecking Dean on the cheek before loping toward the living room. Dean waits for the coffee to finish then pours himself a cup. After he’s added in cream and sugar, he shuffles toward the living room.

“Cas? They gone?” Dean ventures. Only then does he notice the brown-haired woman in the living room. “Hannah?” From what he’d understood, no one from Cas’s family spoke to him.

Hannah’s startled eyes dart between Cas and Dean. “Oh my gosh! Did you guys . . . ?” Dean’s face heats up, and Cas blushes. “You did!” she squeals. “This makes me so happy.”

“What?” Cas marvels. “You don’t disapprove?”

“Of course not.” Hannah grins. “You know I do not agree with our family on matters of sexuality.”

“No, I don’t. Didn’t,” Cas muses to himself. Hannah’s expression grows apologetic, and Cas continues, “Not with you staying away like everyone else. . . I don’t understand . . . why’re you here now?”

“I came to check on you. By the way, do you know how many cameras are out there?”

Cas frowns. “What’re they doing here?”

“God, Cas, ’course they’d come,” Dean inserts. “We’re political opponents, for Christ’s sake.” Hannah gives him a disapproving look. Yeah, the goody-goody woman probably doesn’t appreciate the language. “Sorry,” he mumbles.

“I wonder what they’re saying about us,” Cas ponders. He settles into the couch and gestures for Dean and Hannah to join him.

“You take a big risk in coming here,” Cas warns Hannah as he switches on the TV. “Mother and Father will cut you off.”

“Unlikely,” Hannah replies. “Don’t be surprised if they try to make nice with you. Until everything blows over, anyway.”

“They just care about their image.”

“Of course. That’s why I don’t give a fig what they think. Not anymore.”

Cas’s mouth falls open. “What? You know that they will—”

“Sever ties with me, yes. As soon as it becomes convenient. But I miss you, brother.” She bites her lip in what appears to be an attempt to prevent herself from crying. “I know it’s a sin.” She sniffs. “But you’ve always been my favorite.”

“Well, your brothers are jackasses,” Dean interrupts. “At least, they were when we were kids.”

“Oh, they still are, I think you’d say. But they’re my family, you know? Mother and Father, too.” She reaches for one of Cas’s hands and squeezes. “But so is Castiel.”

Cas makes no effort to control his tears. “Hannah, I—thank you.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

To keep himself from bawling like a chick, Dean turns his attention to the news, where Inias Ingalls is interviewing his dad. “Representative Winchester,” Inias declares. “Dean Winchester went home with Castiel Novak last night. His political competition. Why do you think that is?”

“Dean’s a compassionate man, Mr. Ingalls.  He probably just wanted to make sure Mr. Novak was all right after their harrowing ordeal. Some things transcend politics.”

“Where do you go from here? What will happen with the congressional race?”

“It will go on as usual.”

“Who do you think the party will replace you with?” Cas asks Dean.

Dean shrugs. “Dunno. Normally, Michael would be the natural choice, but given the circumstances, they wouldn’t go with him. It’d make them look bad—not to mention the Novaks.” _Them._ Funny, he’s already thinking of the party as apart from himself.

“Wait. What’s this?” Hannah interrupts.

“Dean has decided not to run.”

She turns to Dean, eyes wide. “Really?”

“Yeah.” He interlaces his fingers with Cas’s. Hannah’s already put the pieces together, and at any rate, the public will know soon. “I’m throwing my support behind Cas.”

“But—do you know how much you’ll lose?”

Dean eyes Cas as he replies. “I’ll lose more if I don’t.”

Cas gazes at him, awe written over his face. “I don’t deserve this.”

Dean begs to differ, but he knows arguing with Cas would be fruitless. “It ain’t a question of deserving. You and me—it just _is_.”

**Author's Note:**

> Crowley is the man who masterminded the kidnapping plot, if you're not sure. (His name is never mentioned in the fic.)
> 
> Thanks for reading! Comments, kudos, and bookmarks are welcome and much appreciated!


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